


cool water

by verity



Series: tween wolf [44]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Burns, Demonic Possession, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is the first one in the bathroom after Allison starts screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cool water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [billtheradish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billtheradish/gifts).



Lydia is the first one in the bathroom after Allison starts screaming, mostly because she was already waiting outside. She throws a towel around Allison, turns the shower off, and watches the blue flames licking at Allison's wrists sputter out, leaving red, ropey burns in their wake. "Hey," she says, putting a hand on Allison's shoulder as she sits down on the edge of the tub.

Allison flinches; Lydia pulls her hand away.

"What's—can I come in?" Stiles's voice is muffled by the door. "I smelled burning—"

"She's _hurt_ ," Lydia says. "I need—"

The door swings open and Stiles drops a battered lunchbox on the counter before he crouches in front of Allison. "Can I see?" he asks; she holds out her wrists for him to inspect, and Stiles peers closely for a long moment. "Cold compresses. Scott, get me—frozen peas and hand towels or something."

"You're supposed to use cool water on a burn," Allison says quietly.

"Uh, no, I'm pretty sure water is the problem." Stiles leans back and reaches, fingers scrabbling on the counter; Lydia shoves the lunchbox forward. "Like—the last time, you were at the pool? and this time—"

"She's taken plenty of showers before," Lydia says. "This never—"

Allison shakes her head. "It usually—it comes out, a little. Steam on the mirror. Not like this, or last night."

"Running water," Stiles says, like that means something to him. "Okay."

The lunchbox turns out to be some kind of supernatural first aid kid, salves and powders in little baggies and tupperware containers and, in one case, a plastic-wrapped Yoplait cup. "Most plastic's magically inert," Stiles says to Lydia's raised eyebrow. "Yeah, I don't know, it's something about petroleum. I use vaseline as a carrier a lot."

He's smearing some around Allison's wrists now, beneath the bracelets she's wearing; the blue one on her right wrist is charred, nearly burned through. Scott cracks the door and tosses Lydia two bags of frozen vegetables and some washcloths. "You guys okay?" Stiles's dad says from behind Scott. "Do you need—"

"No, we don't need a _doctor_ ," Stiles says, exasperated. "Just—Scott."

Then they're all crammed into the bathroom, Allison still in her towel with green beans and carrots on her wrists, Scott sitting on the closed toilet with his hand on Stiles's shoulder, Stiles kneeling at her feet, while Lydia stands back and watches Stiles check Allison's ankles, which have red marks beneath the anklets she's wearing, just little friction burns. He rubs salve into them, too, while Allison curls and uncurls her toes.

"You want to get dressed?" Lydia says to Allison, side-eyeing the boys.

"Yeah, I guess." Allison looks to Stiles first, then Scott. "I—I'm sorry. Thanks."

Scott opens his mouth. " _Apology accepted_ ," Stiles says over whatever awful platitude Scott was planning to dole out.

It's funny, how well Lydia knows them, when she's never really known any of them at all.

—

Lydia shuts the bathroom door firmly behind Stiles and Scott, passes Allison the robe that's hooked on the back of the door. It's worn, plaid terrycloth, smells like teenage boy, but it's better than Allison's swimsuit or the crumpled jeans. "Come on, I won't—you don't have to be by yourself right now."

"Are we talking about you but pretending we're talking about me?" Allison says with a wry smile. She takes the robe, shrugs it over her shoulders before unwrapping her towel.

"Maybe," Lydia says. "This is—pretty weird. I'm not used to—" She gestures broadly, as if that'll somehow encompass everything she's seen in the past fifteen minutes: magic fire and magic first aid and magic bracelets.

"First time for everything," Allison says, fishing around in the pockets of her jeans for her knife.

—

"Slumber party," Stiles's dad—he's not in uniform now—says skeptically.

"You'll be here the entire time," Stiles says. "We're not going to get drunk or—have an orgy—or—I have _magic problems_ to solve, okay—"

Stiles's dad sighs and runs a hand over his face, the same gesture Lydia's seen Stiles make a dozen times. "Yeah, you're not doing that on your own."

"You're going to call Laura?" Stiles says; behind him, Scott makes a disgruntled face.

Allison and Lydia have taken over the couch, Allison's head in Lydia's lap and an old Giants throw over Allison's legs. Lydia strokes her thumb over the soft skin behind Allison's ear. It's been a long day, and everything around else her is starting to feel like theater.

"We've talked," Stiles's dad says. "I think it's past time that you and I work together, son."

**Author's Note:**

> Not all plastic is made from petroleum derivatives; most is chemically inert. That said, you can do ridiculous stuff with plastic polymers: did you know that acetaminophen has [three different polymorphs](http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11457339) and [exposure to different polymers during the crystallization process will affect which one forms](http://www.ns.umich.edu/new/releases/5110-mimicking-mollusks-to-control-crystal-forms)? *jazz hands* 
> 
> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and one time in high school I synthesized both the orthorhombic and monoclinic forms of acetaminophen [for science](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com/post/52520688768/this-photo-of-me-working-on-my-2004-science-fair).


End file.
